by Kata Čuić
“No. I know,” I agree. “I haven’t worked out that part yet.”
“You can’t push a platform without all the details.”
“Why not? Politicians do it all the time.”
“You’re not a politician. You’re an inferno, hot enough to torch the planet when you really set your mind to something. No one’s gonna buy what you’re selling if you’re not even sold enough on the idea to have every last detail worked out.”
He’s not wrong. I hate that he’s right, but he is.
“We can’t do a dance-a-thon. That’s what the Greeks do. We need something else.”
“But it has to be music-related,” he leads.
“Right. And we can’t play our instruments …”
Jimmy faces me more squarely, sobering up a bit. “When I was talking with the drumline tonight, almost all of them told me stories about other bands they’re in. They don’t necessarily want to be famous rock stars, but they love music, so they play any chance they get.”
“I actually went to see Ty’s cover band one night at a dive bar over the summer,” Nate says. “They were pretty freaking good. It ended up being an awesome show.”
I’m not surprised the drumline captain is in a band. We all know he’s talented.
Oh! Oh! “We can host a band competition! Not like the kind we did in high school, but not all that different either! Invite all the local bands from the area, charge an entry fee, advertise like crazy, and ask people to come judge the music for a cover charge! The bands get more exposure and another chance to play at a bigger venue than they’re probably used to, and we can get donations from local businesses to provide food and drinks to the attendees, so they have double the reason to want to spend their money! That’s perfect!”
I didn’t need whiskey to get my creative juices flowing. I needed … Jimmy.
He’s smiling at me with his eyelids at half-mast. I guess that tequila is really kicking in. He’d be way more smug about this win otherwise.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath to control the urge to kiss him in thanks. It’s a weird sensation. I do not like it. “So, all in favor of the Sing Out fundraiser, raise your hands.”
“Nope.” Jimmy slices his hand through the air again, but this movement is definitely sluggish. “I can’t vote until I know what your other idea is first.”
“Oh, my other idea is to have the rookies create sort of an escape-room experience for the upperclassmen. I thought it might be similar to the rookie-initiation ritual we got rid of.”
Jimmy shrugs. “Okay. Now, we can vote.”
“All in favor of Sing Out, raise your hands.”
Everyone raises their hand. Except Jimmy.
“You’re voting for the escape-room idea? Seriously?”
“I would never vote for anything having to do with my brother.”
“Jesus Christ, James!” I throw my hands up in the air, but he doesn’t even flinch. “Get over the fucking chip on your shoulder already! Not everything is about your stupid brother! The Sing Out idea is better, and you know it!”
“You don’t need a vote,” he mumbles. “You already know what you need to run with. Do it, Sophie. It’s good. I’d vote for you.”
Indignation pulses like a living thing in my chest, rattling around, begging me to let it free. “But you just said …”
It doesn’t matter. He’s snoring, and there’s nowhere for my anger to go.
“Goddamn,” Shannon mutters. “That was masterful.”
“I’m making an appointment with the flute section next,” Jake adds.
Shannon punches his shoulder.
Oh, God. I played right into his hands again. But you know what?
Screw Jimmy and his stupid mind games.
I am going to run with it.
Chapter Nineteen
One of these things is not like the others. One of these things feels like she doesn’t belong.
In the middle of all the bustling activity and chatter in the band room, my favorite rookie is sitting in a chair, not interacting with anyone and, quite frankly, looking a little shell-shocked.
And I know exactly why. I remember being in her shoes.
“Hey, Emily.” I slip into the seat beside her, trying not to make my worry too obvious to anyone around us. She’s attempting to keep cool, so no one notices how nervous she is, and I’m not about to blow that for her. “How have your first two days of classes been?”
“Okay, I guess. It was weird to be dismissed from my World History class after getting the syllabus though. I figured we’d jump right into the material. College isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.”
Poor thing. She’s trying so desperately to convince herself. Been there, done that. Still doing it in some ways.
“You’ll jump right in as of tomorrow. And by the end of next week, you’ll feel like a pro at this.” I make my tone easy and light and hope she understands what I’m saying without addressing what I know is really bothering her. If she wants to reach out and talk about it openly, then that should be her decision.
She cuts her gaze to me with tears in her eyes but does a damn good job of putting on a brave face. Her voice drops to a whisper. “I didn’t know I was going to have to work to keep my spot. No one told us about position challenges during tryouts, and none of the squad leaders talked about it at camp. I thought since I was good enough to be selected for pregame squad as a rookie, that meant my position was guaranteed for the season. What’s the point of even memorizing the music and my drill if I’m just going to be sidelined when someone challenges me?”
I nod and try not to appear too smug. I knew that’s what was bothering her. “It’s no different than high school. Didn’t you have auxiliary members then, too?”
“Yeah, but that was in case someone got sick or injured and we needed to fill a spot in the drill. There were no weekly challenge nights when someone could steal our spots!”
She’s fired up about this, and I don’t blame her. I felt the exact same way when position challenges were explained to us after going through the rigors of band camp and getting a few regular evening practices under our belts. It was like they pulled the rug out from under our feet just when we found our footing. When I became a squad leader my sophomore year, I learned that timing was intentional. Dr. Kimball doesn’t want to overwhelm the rookies by piling too much stress on them as they transition from high school to college students, both academically and as band members. Plus, waiting until the newness of it all wears off has additional benefits. It keeps the bandies who already have spots from growing complacent in their performances and gives the auxiliary members something to hope for. Something to work for. Something to fight for.
I understand the reasoning, but I’ve never been a fan of the process. Kind of like the drum major voting.
I tap my fingers a few times on the table to get her attention. It’s amazing how the first few beats of a cadence automatically get our bandie brains into let’s do this mode. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to keep doing exactly what you’ve been doing since the first day of band camp. You’re going to march, you’re going to play, and you’re going to own your spot. Like a boss. No one is going to steal it from you because you are going to work so hard to be the best that no one else will ever have that chance. You got me?”
“Yeah, I got you.” She sniffles, chuckles, then settles into this new belief system. Her eyes are clear and determined when she faces me again. “You really are the best drum major for this job, you know that? And I’m not just saying that because your idea for the Sing Out fundraiser blows the other drum majors’ ideas out of the water.”
“It really does, doesn’t it?” I can’t help but grin.
Even Dr. Kimball pulled me aside and said he wanted to follow through with my plan regardless of the voting outcome.
Emily grins, too. “You know what I actually am excited for?”
“No. What?”
“No matter w
hat happens on Challenge Thursday, whether I march on the field for game day or not, I’m still going to attend my first ever ITK party on Saturday night.”
My smile falls a little. Emily has made it clear that she intends on pledging the frat, and I don’t want to dissuade her. Just because I cleaned up my act in college doesn’t mean we share the same wild high school history. She wants to spread her wings and experience new, exciting things, and frankly, some lessons we have to learn for ourselves. Besides, it might not turn out as poorly for her as it did for me. Shake is pretty good proof of that.
“Do you think you could give me some pointers?” she asks with hope glowing in her expression. “Maybe tell me what to expect and how to impress the brothers, so I’ll get a bid to rush?”
I don’t get a chance to confess I’m actually the worst choice of drum majors to ask for advice about that. A sharp squeeze to my shoulder distracts me. I glance up to see Jimmy fixing Emily with a very serious expression.
“The most important thing any of us could teach you about any college party on campus is to never, ever accept a drink from someone. If you don’t see it being poured with your own eyes, do not drink it. There are a lot of assholes out there who have no problem slipping something into a woman’s drink. And I’m not even just talking about date rape drugs.”
Emily shakes her head, and I think she just barely resists the urge to roll her eyes at one of her drum majors. “That’s Safety 101. It applies all the time, not just at parties. And not just for women. Everyone knows that.”
I’m so stupid. My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I thought I had known that, too. But I fell victim to it anyway. I’m suddenly grateful my drink was only spiked with laxatives instead of the much more horrifying and much more typical alternative.
Jimmy’s expression changes from serious to a little arrogant in the span of a breath. Almost like he has a back pocket full of masks just waiting for him to slip on in any situation. His voice is so full of swagger when he speaks that it’s almost obscene. “I’m president of ITK this year, so I can answer any questions you have. I cannot, however, guarantee you a bid. That’s up to the entire brotherhood, not just me.”
Emily seems just as disgusted by his ego as I’m trying not to be. She cuts me a quick glance. “Actually, I need to get back to my dorm. I have an eight a.m. class, so I need to get some sleep.”
I shake my head as soon as she flees the awkward situation. “Did you just purposefully talk one of the most talented rookies I’ve ever seen out of joining your stupid frat?”
“No. I just bought you a little time.” He takes her vacated chair. “She asked you for advice, not me. Even if I gave her the keys to the kingdom, it wouldn’t mean as much.”
“I was about to tell her I’m not a member of ITK and direct her to Shannon for help with getting a bid,” I confess. “You interrupted.”
“Shannon is her section leader.” He taps the table much like I did with Emily. “You are her drum major. And you are the only female drum major all these young women have to look up to. You are responsible for setting a good example and teaching them everything they need to know.”
At least he’s not throwing my lack of experience in my face and turning it into another competition. Maybe we’re making some progress toward the end goal after all. Even at the height of the war, I could never accuse Jimmy of not being devoted to the band. It’s why he’s my competition for head drum major in the first place. And probably also the reason he’s the current ITK president.
He stands then holds his hand out to me like he did after the weight-lifting contest. “Come on. I see the wheels of doubt turning in your brain. No competition tonight. We’re going to try something different.”
I accept his hand, and he pulls me up again. “What are we going to try tonight? Are you going to poison me with something stronger than a laxative, so I’ll be able to warn the rookie women about symptoms to watch out for?”
He hauls me against his body, and his serious expression breaks into a rueful smile. “I know you’ve been punishing me for the spiked drink by calling off the war. But you’re punishing yourself, too. Denying yourself something you want just as much as I do. Tonight, I’m going to give you every reason to renege on the cease-fire. Instead of running a fierce competition, I’m going to help you.”
Hopefully, not with more dancing lessons.
I tilt my gaze up to meet his. “How is helping me going to make me want to call an end to the truce? Isn’t that just going to make me want to work that much harder for peace?”
He releases me like my threat of peace is the ultimate destruction then turns his back on me to walk away like he can tempt me to shoot him in the back and be done with it all.
“Oh, I never said I wouldn’t be getting something out of this deal, too,” he calls over his shoulder. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll be screaming James again. Be at the house in an hour. I’ve got some things to set up before we can get down to negotiating the terms of this treaty.”
Chapter Twenty
I miss. Again.
“You’re thinking too much about this,” Jimmy calls from the other end of the table. “It’s supposed to be fun.”
Beer pong isn’t fun. It’s another version of hell, complete with Jimmy grinning at me.
“You know what? I think I’ve got the gist of it enough to explain to anyone who asks. Let’s move on to something else.”
“Okay,” he agrees, sinking another ball into one of my cups just because making me feel like dirt is his special talent in life. “We should get back to ITK history and trivia anyway. You didn’t finish going through the pledge packet.”
He’s being way too obvious with his intention here. He’s still trying to rile me into competing with him beyond a simple game. He makes a “helpful” suggestion, then I’m expected to refuse it just to avoid competing with him.
So, I go for splitting the difference. “I thought tonight was about negotiating the terms of a lasting peace treaty? How is me learning all the intricate details of a fraternity I’m not pledging supposed to be helping me?”
“Well”—he sinks another ball without even waiting for me to take my turn—“you’re a drum major, which makes you an automatic, honorary brother. And this is your initiation. Surprise! I’m your Big.”
I know what a “big” is because we have bigs and littles in the nationally recognized band sorority I’m in. I also know fraternities and sororities take those fake family ties very seriously and don’t divulge their secrets to anyone outside the organization.
“How did you get the other brothers to agree to that?” I try again. Miss again.
Jimmy laughs as he jogs to the corner of the room to fetch my errant ball. “I’m the president and a drum major. I can do whatever the hell I want.”
I’m not buying that after all the rules I learned about at the only ITK party I’ve ever attended, and my skeptical expression shows it.
“Okay, okay,” he hedges. “I threatened to kick Jared out of ITK after what he did to you, and this was the only term I set as a way for him to stay.”
“Why would you want him to stay? He only dosed me because he knew you were trying to get back at him for doing exactly the same thing to you. Shannon says you two have this whole feud going on I never even knew about until this year.”
“Does that make you jealous? Make you want to jump back into the fray? It’s okay to admit it. You’re my favorite competition, too. See? I didn’t burst into flames by saying that to you.”
I forego the cups and aim straight for his giant, stupid head. And still miss.
“Ah, see? You just showed me your cards without saying a word.” He laughs and retrieves another one of my balls. He’s such a good boy that I almost want to pat his head for being so dedicated to fetch. “It was Shannon’s idea actually. She pointed out that I couldn’t see the trees for the forest.”
I smirk. “That’s a Dr. Kimball saying. I guess you’ve figu
red out the actual meaning.”
He nods and sinks another ball. “I was so hell-bent on revenge that I didn’t stop to think that if I kicked Jared out, he’d run straight to Dr. Kimball. And that would probably get all of ITK disbanded as another hazing risk. The band has already lost enough this year. Even though I’m still gonna get that motherfucker, I have to do it in a way that won’t ruin things for everyone else who just wants to have a good time. Taking you on as my little and initiating you privately is part of that.”
“How is that part of it?” I miss again. I give up.
He knows it too. He places the balls in his cups and props his hands on the table, signaling that the game is over. “Jared thought he’d get to be your big as a concession for not being elected as an officer. And he had plans to make you work for it. That spiked drink was your first taste of hazing under his belt. So, I took his power away. He doesn’t get to humiliate you in front of the entire band at parties, and he doesn’t get the privilege of claiming you in his line.”
“So, I’m just a prize to him?” That’s why I suffered for hours? Bullshit.
Jimmy nods. “You’re the prize.”
“So, what? I’m your little now, and your agenda is to turn me into the best pledge ITK has ever seen as a way to beat Jared? As a way to force me to compete against the other pledges since I won’t compete with you anymore?” Anger steamrolls through my veins. Much more of honesty hour, and I’m going to be right back where I started—wanting to strangle Jimmy with my bare hands because I’ve been inadvertently exposed to my favorite drug that I’m still struggling to quit.
“You want a fair fight for drum major, and I want that, too. I’ve never wanted to beat you at anything unless you came at me with your best. The ITK crap doesn’t matter because the voting is going to take place before the next party anyway. But if you show up at the party as the newly elected head drum major and have no idea what you’re doing here? Everyone is going to second-guess their vote. Even if Dr. Kimball doesn’t give them the option of a recall and a new election, they’re not going to respect you for the rest of the season. Then, the role of head drum major has no meaning at all. Maybe for everyone who comes after us. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to see that happen.”
